


today was a good day (shit)

by maurascalla



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2070540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maurascalla/pseuds/maurascalla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a bdsm au with a twist you won't believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	today was a good day (shit)

**Author's Note:**

> I actually am not hella proud of this, but here it is. Happy a.u.gust, everyone!!

Mickey wakes up with a pounding in his head, his mouth dry like stale bread and his eyes puffy and red rimmed. His stomach rolls, and he feels like being sick all over his cluttered bedroom floor, but he doesn’t have the energy to rollover in his bed to do it. He’s hungover, and he deeply regrets every decision in his life that has led up to this moment. 

“Get up, dickbag,” Mickey hears Mandy shout from somewhere behind him. He groans in response, but Mandy ignores him, poking her head into his pigsty of a bedroom from around the corner into the bathroom. “Seriously dude, we got shit to do today.”

“Like fuckin’ what?” he asks, prying his eyes open. He forces himself to sit up in bed, feet hitting the floor, arms curled around his middle. He grimaces at the feeling in his gut, and tries to ignore it. He can’t believe how hungover he is. Mickey, at seventeen years old, is used to drinking until he passes out, and hasn’t been this sick after a night of hard partying since he was thirteen. He burps and doesn’t excuse himself. 

Mandy wrinkles her nose and says, “Dad wants me to get the payout from those Larson fucks, and you know I can’t go alone.”

Mickey sighs, rubbing at his face vigorously while Mandy disappears back into bathroom to do whatever it is girls do in the bathroom. Eyeliner, probably. Eventually, when he’s actually able to stand, Mickey stumbles into the bathroom himself, hands at the waistband of his sweatpants before he even makes it through the door. Mandy screeches when he takes his morning piss with her standing at the sink, face inches from the mirror. 

“Jesus, Mickey! Fuck!” she cries, slamming her eyes shut. He grunts, finishing and leaving without washing his hands. “You know what dad said, Mickey!”

“About what?” he asks, smell checking the jeans on the floor at the end of his bed. They smell like beer and cigarettes and dust, but not piss or meth, so he drag them on after he takes off his sleeping pants. He’s pretty sure the jeans aren’t his, but it’s not like his brothers will miss them since they’re in Mickey’s room and not theirs.

“You fuckers can’t just whip your fucking dicks out around me! Not since I presented my orientation, asshole!” Mandy says, arms crossed over her chest. Mickey shrugs on a shirt and runs a hand through his hair. He still wants to vomit, and Mandy’s converse are looking like a really good target right about now. 

“Whatever,” he says, digging around in his weapons drawer, fingers curling around his brass knuckles. He’s thinking about the Larson boys, who live down the road and owe his dad more money than is healthy, and how he hopes they don’t try anything. He hates to work for it, likes it better when people just give up and give him what he wants. After a brief internal debate, wherein he tries to remember if Tyrone has a temper or not, he grabs his butterfly knife too, and tucks it into the front pocket of his pants. 

“Mickey,” Mandy says, knocking him out of his thoughts. He looks up and sees his sister giving him an unreadable look, her eyebrows arched high and her lips pressed together tightly. “You’re wearing Iggy’s pants.”

Mickey looks down and notices, for the first time, how the pants stick to his legs, showing off their shape and the roundness of his ass. There’s padded lining brushing against his knees and a mental hook hanging off one of his belt loops. Well shit, he didn’t even realize. 

He looks over at Mandy, who’s wearing similar pants, only tighter to her skin and orientation appropriate. He shrugs and moves to unzip Iggy’s jeans, already looking for a pair of his or Colin’s pants. “Fuck,” he mutters, annoyed. He doesn’t particularly like wearing sub’s pants, but he doesn’t hate it either, and wishes he didn’t have to change into the roomier unpadded jeans. He’s already in these pants, he doesn’t want to have to change. 

Mandy laughs nervously, “Yeah! Wouldn’t want anyone to think you were a sub, right?” 

Mickey rolls his eyes at her, ripping the pants off and flinging them at her face. “I’m not a fucking sub,” he growls, stabbing his feet though the legs of a pair of his own dom’s pants, which are baggier and come with none of the features commonly found on sub’s pants. Mandy throws Iggy’s jeans into the bathroom, out of sight, out of mind. 

They don’t speak again until they’re halfway down the front steps, cigarettes hanging from their lips. Mickey hands his sister the aluminium baseball bat they keep on the porch and she thanks him. “Don’t mention it,” he mumbles, and he’s not just talking about the bat. 

He doesn’t want anyone to think he’s a sub, but he’d prefer that to the truth. Mickey Milkovich is an uno, an unoriented person, the lowest of the low, and if his dad knew, he’d be a dead man walking. 

After lighting Mandy’s cigarette, Mickey lights his own, and they walk together to the Larson house, Mandy a few steps behind her brother, same as always. 

**

When they get home, five grand richer and covered in other peoples’ blood, Ian Gallagher is sitting on the railing around their front porch, picking at his nails. Mickey sees him and his stupidly handsome face and tucks his hands into his front pockets because he can’t be sure he won’t haul off and hit his sister’s dom otherwise. 

“Mandy!” Ian says excitedly, bounding down the steps like he can’t stand to be away from her for one more second. He has his fingers through the hoop on her belt loop, pulling her in close to him, before leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. Gallagher is, as far as Mickey can tell, a pretty good dom, by Southside standards. He’s good to his sister, doesn’t make her do things she doesn’t want to do in the name of power play. Mandy told Mickey once that Ian doesn’t even want her to call him “Sir,” which is incredibly rare for a dominant. 

Sometimes, when he’s alone, Mickey thinks about fucking the shit out of Gallagher without being forced to pretend to be something he’s not. If Gallagher doesn’t make his sister, his own submissive, call him “Sir” then he definitely wouldn’t make Mickey, who presents himself as a dominate, but never once felt like one. He’s never felt like a submissive either, but if he’s going to live like he’s something he’s not, he’s not going to pick the option that wouldn’t force him to wear a corset out in public. Those fucking things hurt, and Iggy looks ridiculous in his.

Mickey has a crush on Mandy’s partner, but it doesn’t matter because he’s normally oriented and Mickey doesn’t want to fuck a dom, let alone his sister’s. She would claw his eyes out if he tried. 

“Do you wanna come over?” Gallagher asks Mandy, tugging playfully at her. She giggles and nods. Most doms Gallagher’s age wouldn’t ever ask for anything from a sub, and that’s why Terry hates him so much; because respect for your sub is something none of the Milkovich doms ever learned, and obviously the Gallagher’s play by the new rules, the ones that give submissives rights and shit. Secretly, Mickey is relieved, for Mandy’s sake. Iggy’s fucked some dominates who’ve left him wrecked to hell, and Mickey hates to see his brother like that. Terry just laughs, but he’s an asshole. 

Mickey doesn’t say anything though, because he doesn’t want his dad to find out that he’s unoriented. The only thing worse than a sub is someone without an orientation at all. “No good, low lives, choosing to go against nature like that! Who do those fucking uno bastards think they are?” Terry says when he’s drunk, or pissed off at someone. 

While Gallagher and his sister make moon-eyes at each other, Mickey stomps up the steps and into the house. Colin’s sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, joint stuck between his lips. Iggy’s on the floor, hand held up, waiting for Colin to share his joint. They’re watching Regis and Kelly and bitching about the sound of her voice. 

“‘Sup?” Iggy says when he realizes Mickey’s standing there. 

“How’d it go?” Colin asks, finally handing Iggy the joint. He looks up at Mickey, eyes red, and smiles when Mickey pulls the cash from his pockets. “Where’s Mandy?”

“Gallagher has her.” Mickey leaves the money on the kitchen table for his dad, and grabs a beer from the fridge before joining his brother on the couch. Iggy hands him their joint, and he takes it. They sit there like that, drinking and smoking, watching daytime tv, until Mandy comes back from Gallagher’s house, nearly six hours later. 

“Dicks-for-brains,” she says cheerfully, greeting them when she breezes through the front door. Mickey doesn’t bother to look at her until she’s settled next to Iggy on the floor, beer in hand. She looks good, happy, and part of him hates her a little.

Part of him hates all of his siblings because they are solidly secure in their orientation, and Mickey can’t wrap his head around it. He doesn’t understand it. He’ll never be happy, he’ll never be as contented as Mandy is right now, coming down from her day with her partner. He won’t have that because he isn’t a sub and he isn’t a dom and when he fucks someone he feels so lost. 

He doesn’t really know where to go from here, doesn’t know what to do. He’s resigned himself to a life of unsatisfactory sex and never letting his guard down. Mickey hates pretending, but if he doesn’t leave a trail of subs in his wake, his father will get suspicious.

When Terry gets home, Mickey’s still sitting on the couch with Colin, but Mandy and Iggy have migrated into their respective rooms. He doesn’t blame them, Terry is terrible to submissives, won’t even let them sit on the furniture. 

As soon as he’s through the front door, he starts cursing and throwing stuff around. Mickey’s on his feet, sneaking into his room before Terry can notice him. He just doesn’t want to deal with him today. Not today when he’s already mad because he can’t get his fuck on right. 

Mickey sits on his bed and sharpens his knives and smokes another joint until he falls asleep.

**

The next day, when Mickey’s out on his rounds, selling drugs and collecting payments, he decides to stop by the Kash & Grab for a blue Gatorade. He’s hot and thirsty and the guy behind the counter, a sub called Kash with no backbone to speak of, won’t put up a fuss when he walks out without paying for it. 

The front door of the Kash & Grab is locked up, but Mickey doesn’t let that get him down. Shrugging, he goes around to the back of the store to get in through a second door he knows it hidden back there. It’ll be even easier to get away with his thievery this way, but he’ll miss the look on Kash’s face when he brazenly saunters out the door without paying for his items. 

It isn’t dark inside, like Mickey thought it might be. The lights are on, and it seems like the store should be open, but it’s not. It’s strange, but he doesn’t think too much of it. He starts grabbing things he wants, Pringles, beer, Mountain Dew, when he hears grunting at the back of the store, behind the produce. Mickey smirks to himself and sneaks over as silently as possible and peers around a shelf. Kash is back there, getting rammed by a dominant that definitely isn’t his. It’s Ian Gallagher doing the fucking, his sister’s dom. For a minute, Mickey sees red. This fucking bastard is fucking some slut sub who isn’t Mandy? Mickey’s going to rip his goddamned balls off! 

“Oh, Ian,” Kash sighs, and Mickey’s stomach lurches. Ian’s touching Kash, but not guiding him. He doesn’t bark out orders or lean in to whisper them. He isn’t commanding the man at all. They aren’t checking in with colors, aren’t playing by any rule book Mickey’s ever read. They’re fucking like unos and it makes the skin on the back of Mickey’s neck crawl.

He’s frozen in place, 40 oz in one hand, soda in the other, tubes of chips tucked in the crooks of his arms. He can’t move from this spot, can’t breathe. He’s never seen other unos in person before, and he feels light headed, sick. 

He must make some noise, because Gallagher twists to look at him, eyes wide and scared. Mickey swallows past the lump in his throat and drops everything he’s holding without meaning to. He’s gone, bolting out of the Kash & Grab before he realizes what he’s doing. He runs until he can’t see the store anymore, and leans against the nearest wall, trying to catch his breath. 

His sister’s dom is a fucking uno. Ian Gallagher is an uno. Ian Gallagher, who Mickey’s been thinking about for months, is an uno, is like him. He isn’t a dom at all. He wants to throw up. 

With shaking fingers, he pulls his cigarettes from his pocket and sticks one between his lips. He lights it and inhales, feeling instantly better. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck.”

Mickey leans his head back against the the wall and closes his eyes, exhaling harshly. He feels wrung out, unsure of where to go from here. Everything is different now, nothing is different now. He takes a drag of his cigarette. 

“Mickey!” He hears from behind him. He jerks his head to the side, and sees Gallagher jogging up to him, jaw set. Mickey flicks his cigarette, flinging ashes in Gallagher’s general direction. “What you saw-”

“Does Mandy know?” Mickey asks. 

“Yes,” Gallagher says quickly. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his pants, dom’s pants. Mickey looks away. “She’s doing me a favor.”

They stand there awkwardly for a moment before Gallagher clears his throat. “You can’t tell anyone,” he says and Mickey scoffs. 

“Whatever, just don’t fuck over my sister, Gallagher,” Mickey demands, kicking off from the wall and shouldering past the other boy. Gallagher reaches out to grab at him as he passes, but Mickey skirts out of the way. He levels Gallagher with a glare. “Don’t fucking-”

“You’re not going to tell anyone?” Gallagher says desperately. He grabs onto Mickey’s arm, looking at him imploringly, and Mickey blinks back at him before spitting his cigarette out of his mouth and onto the ground. Without warning, he hauls back and smashes his fist into Gallagher’s face. He’s so angry, about Mandy, about himself, about Kash. He’s so angry, he doesn’t know what else to do but hit this kid. He wants to hit him on the best days, because he’s hot and Mickey couldn’t have him, and this is just too much. 

So he hits Gallagher until the kid starts to punch him back. They tussle, smack each other until they’re out of breath, pissed off and drained. They’re laying next to each other in a dirty alley, covered in bruises, and bleeding. Mickey tilts his head and looks at Gallagher. They lock eyes and it’s immediate, the reaction. They’re tearing at their own clothes, ripping them off and Mickey has his hands on Gallagher’s skin as soon as he can. It’s warm and feels so good under his fingers. 

It’s nothing like anything Mickey’s felt before. It feels good, and right. It’s like he’s flying and he can’t believe he can feel so solid at the same time. It’s amazing and great and when they’re done, he does up his dom’s jeans and lights up a celebratory cigarette. It sticks on his bloody lip, stinging it, but doesn’t damper Mickey’s good mood. 

“Oh my god,” Gallagher laughs, pulling out cigarettes of his own. They smoke silently, avoiding each other’s eyes. 

“I won’t fuckin’ say anything to anyone,” Mickey says, and he watches a smile stretch out across Gallagher’s face. He’s battered and bruised, but still grinning like a moron and Mickey fights against a grin of his own. 

“Was that the first time you’ve-?” Gallagher asks. 

Mickey nods. “Like an uno, yeah,” he says. 

“How long’ve you known?” 

“We aren’t going to sit around and gossip like subby bitches, okay? It happened, it’s oven. We don’t fuckin’ talk about it,” Mickey spits out, violently tapping at his cigarette to ashe it. He’s trying to be intimidating, posturing like a dom and glaring daggers at the the other boy. Gallagher is an idiot though, because he just smiles some more, smugly this time, like he knows something Mickey doesn’t. 

They’re quiet again, smoking, and Mickey takes a few shallow breaths before putting out his cigarette and reaching for another one. He lights it and sighs. Gallagher won’t stop looking at him, eyes twinkling, and it really hits Mickey that he just had unoriented sex in public with his sister’s dom. He sighs again. 

“I was like, eleven?” Mickey says, because Gallagher is still looking at him like he knows more than he does. It’s irritating. “I just didn’t get it.”

Gallagher nods, expression suddenly grimmer than before. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“Obviously,” Mickey scoffs, gesturing between them. He gets a bashful smile from Gallagher for his efforts. The kid’s giving him whiplash, with all his different smiles. He wants to kiss him, right on his stupid grin, but doesn’t. He looks down at his knees, bent up against his chest, instead. When he glances back up, Gallagher’s still staring at him, the skin around his eyes crinkling from the strength of his smile. This boy just won’t quit. 

“Well, catch you later, fuckface,” Mickey says, standing abruptly. Gallagher looks taken aback, and rises from the ground to follow Mickey out of the alley, literally on his heels. 

“Yeah, I got to get back to work,” Gallagher says, pointing at the general direction of the Kash & Grab. Mickey frowns at the mention of Kash, but otherwise ignores him and flicks his cigarette, smoked down to its filter, at Gallagher’s shoes. 

“Whatever,” Mickey grunts. He’s walking away from Gallagher with a little more swagger in his step than usual. He waits until he’s far enough down the street before he lets himself smile widely. 

He even whistles a little, more pleased than he’s been in years.

**Author's Note:**

> Mandy isn't actually a sub here, she's an unrealized switch. She doesn't know it yet, so neither does Mickey. Just so you guys know. 
> 
> queermccoy.tumblr.com


End file.
